EXPEDITION TO THE ICE BOX

The route is through the alley where Russell lives and then past Allan Gin's barber shop, followed by the store where they have State Express Filters, around the corner, and past Great Communication, Great East, and Thing Bank (freely translating from Chinese, you understand). Except that on cold nights that seems a greater distance than it should.
Much quieter too, with fewer people about. It's bitter and empty out there.

Which does not stop all the white people. Whom one can hear for a block before they go by. Although remarkably, the loud cheery party at one of the intersections consisted of four of the gentlemen from the Toisanese late lunch klatch at one of the chachantengs.
The most Irish-looking of them belting out a cheerful song in Mandarin.

[Some Cantonese gentlemen can look very Irish. It's a roguish quality, and twinkling eyes. Think Chow Yunfat.]

When I got off the bus at darling's (寵兒) I loaded up my pipe, and as I was lighting it, Younger Brother Yee passed and said 'hello', waving his own pipe, and explaining that cigarettes were just far too dear nowadays. He's someone I've known for years, but back then he smoked fags. Which, nowadays, are an expensive luxury in California.

Shortly after the bookseller and I entered the burger joint it filled up with businessmen in lovely Sears Roebuck suits, advertising the fashion tastes of elsewhere in the country. When quite a while later we passed a boîte on our way to the bus stop, they were inside the place all talking at once. I guess the convention they are attending is an astounding success.

We had been at a different bar, where except for a boisterous man who sang one Frank Sinatra song, it had been pleasantly quiet, due probably to the aforementioned frigid temperatures. Even so, I didn't quite finish my tea. Boistery tends to offput me.


This is the beginning of my wintry discontent. I shall probably belly-ache about the weather for the next six weeks. This is what forcing people to smoke outdoors does.
It's a sad state of affairs, and I wish to keenly protest.
Modern society is to blame.



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